


Logan Sanders and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by Anonymous



Series: Analogical Agere Human AU [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Age Play Caregiver Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Age Play Little Logic | Logan Sanders, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Human, Caretaking, Crying, Exhaustion, Gen, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Non-Sexual Age Play, Tired Logic | Logan Sanders, but nothing romantic actually happens because Logan is a kiddo, you can take this as platonic or pre-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He'd left his coat on the back of his chair, in his haste to get away. There was no way he was going back for it now.He would just have to freeze.He began walking briskly to his usual bus stop, rubbing his arms in a desperate attempt to stay warm.Why on Earth had he opted for short sleeves today of all days? It was like the universe was against him.Logan dismissed the ridiculous thought from his mind as soon as it had occurred to him. He was just having a bad day, was all. Surely there was no way for it to get any worse.(Spoilers: it got worse)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: Analogical Agere Human AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192538
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74
Collections: Anonymous





	Logan Sanders and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: 
> 
> "we have neighboring apartments and i found you sitting in the hall crying because you’re hella exhausted and you’re so tired you can’t get your key to work in the lock please stop crying i’m trying to help you"
> 
> I've had that in my notes for quite a while, and unfortunately, never found out where it was from, so if someone does find out, please let me know. 
> 
> Edit: I now possess the link to the original prompt list!!!! 
> 
> https://cosmicclarkegriffin.tumblr.com/post/116167907439/more-aus-no-one-asked-me-for-were-characters-at
> 
> Thank you so much @DannyisDone for finding this, using your, surely incredible, research skills. 
> 
> Warnings:  
> \- one minor swear word  
> \- homophobia (briefly)  
> \- Logan thinks negatively of his regression for a little bit 
> 
> If I've missed anything, let me know. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

"Hey, Logan, right?"  
  
Logan glanced up from his computer briefly, giving a nod of confirmation. His co-worker, Linda, smiled, but it was thin, and clearly forced. 

"A bunch of us are going to the bar a few streets away after work. Did you wanna come with?"  
  
Really, Logan wasn't sure why she was even trying. Linda clearly didn't like him, he'd once heard her saying to another co-worker that she thought that he "had a stick up his butt". Though she had phrased it a little more... _crudely_.  
  
And wasn't the last five co-workers asking the same question, and coming back with the same answer a hint enough? He didn't want to come, simple as that.  
  
Logan blinked, eyes focussing on fingers snapping in front of his face, far too close for his liking. He flinched back, head snapping up to look at Linda again.  
  
"Hello? You with me?"  
  
He nodded, movement quick and jerky. Her expression flickered briefly, before that smile was plastered back on.  
  
"You have an answer or not? You can come with us, we won't bite."  
  
Her mouth was saying one thing, but her eyes entirely another. There was a menacing quality to that stare she was giving him, like she was daring him to decline. There was a wrong answer here, and it was the one that Logan was about to give her.  
  
She reminded him of a vulture, preying on those she thought were weak, tearing them apart ruthlessly. He'd seen her with David in that conference, reduced the poor man to tears in a matter of minutes, just for suggesting they change their marketing tactics to fit a different target audience. She said she wouldn't bite, but Logan wasn't so sure. 

Her foot began tapping impatiently on the floor, and Logan swallowed. She was getting annoyed.  
  
Come on, come on, come on, just _answer_!  
  
"No, thank you, Linda," he said, trying desperately to conceal the tremors threatening to leak into his voice. He had appearances to keep up, after all. "Though I do appreciate the invitation."  
  
He did not, in fact, appreciate the invitation.  
  
She threw her head back and laughed suddenly, startling Logan and gaining the attention of several other people in the room. He barely stopped himself from sinking further into his desk chair to hide away from prying eyes.  
  
"God, I knew it! You don't even have the _balls_ to do anything fun!" She crowded herself into his personal space, stabbing a finger at his chest. His pushed himself back reflexively, chair hitting the back of his booth.  
  
"You know what? You're pathetic." Her face was so close that he could smell the Starbucks Caramel Frappucino on her breath. "I bet you don't even have a girlfriend."  
  
That was a low blow. Everyone in the office knew he was gay. She was just trying to hit him where it hurt.  
  
Logan loathed to admit that it was working.  
  
He took a shaking breath. He didn't even care about image, at this point. He just wanted her to go away.  
  
"P-please step back," he whispered. She cackled, straightening up.  
  
"Did you hear that, everyone? He wants me to 'p-please step back'!"  
  
A chorus of laughter echoed throughout the room, because that was another thing. Linda was the Queen Bee of the workplace. Ruled with an iron fist, if you didn't laugh when she was laughing, then you were the one being laughed at. It was just now the system worked.  
  
And it was a cruel, hateful system, in Logan's opinion.  
  
She resumed her closeness, lip curled into a sneer.  
  
"People like you, they don't get anywhere in life. You think you're so smart, working all the time, but you're still just that nerdy school boy that had his ass kicked on the playground."  
  
It wasn't the statement that Logan hated. It was the fact that it was true. He pretended that he was fine, he was brave, he was better, but it was all true. He would never escape these people, the ones who kicked him when he was already down. And he'd never fight back. He was too weak.  
  
Unwelcome tears sprung to his eyes. Linda's eyes widened fractionally, before a cruel smile stretched across her thin lips.  
  
"Would you look at that," she was addressing the room again, announcing his weakness to the rest of his peers. "He's crying. Crying like the little-"  
  
Logan's watch chose that moment to beep, signalling that he was finally allowed to leave this hellhole. He stood up, gathering his papers with trembling hands and stuffed them hurriedly into his - already full - messenger bag. Usually, he would have spent an extra five minutes organising them, but he really just wanted to get out of there as quick as he could.  
  
He shoved past Linda, wiping his eyes discreetly. Making a beeline to the elevator, he ignored the mocking jeers and knife-sharp insults thrown at him as he walked past.  
  
"Wuss!"  
  
"Cry baby!"  
  
"That's right! Go cry to your momma, nerd!"  
  
As the elevator doors shut behind him, and the voices faded away, Logan let himself cry. They were right, the lot of them. He was a wuss. He was a cry baby. And he was dangerously close to slipping.  
  
Age regression was his coping method, his escape from the personal hell that was his workplace. His comfort. 

But, right now, he'd never hated anything about himself more.  
  
Not only did his vulnerability give them a chance to hurt him, but it also validated every single thing that came out of their mouths, whether they knew it or not.  
  
The elevator dinged, and he stormed out of the doors before they could even open fully, ignoring the concerned calls of the receptionist. He stepped out of the lobby, immediately greeted by the rush of frigid air.  
  
Perfect. Wonderful. Fantastic.  
  
He'd left his coat on the back of his chair, in his haste to get away. There was no way he was going back for it now.  
  
He would just have to freeze.  
  
He began walking briskly to his usual bus stop, rubbing his arms in a desperate attempt to stay warm.  
  
Why on Earth had he opted for short sleeves today of all days? It was like the universe was against him.  
  
Logan dismissed the ridiculous thought from his mind as soon as it had occurred to him. He was just having a bad day, was all. Surely there was no way for it to get any worse.  
  
It was that exact moment that a particularly harsh gust of wind blew, and the buckle of Logan's bulging messenger bag finally gave in, bursting open. Instantly, papers flew out in every direction.  
  
Logan gave a squeak of alarm, turning abruptly in the opposite direction to chase his work. He sprinted as fast as he could - he was never great at sports - while holding together his bag as well as he could. He very nearly bumped into several people as he ran against the current of citizens, trying to grab at least one of his papers.  
  
He slowed to a stop at the end of the street, watching helplessly as eight hours of work was carried away from him. His lip trembled, but he bit it stubbornly. He wasn't about to cry on the side of the street like a baby.  
  
~~Like the baby he was~~.  
  
Logan sighed. Great. Now he was the exact opposite of where he needed to be, and had absolutely nothing to show for it.  
  
He turned, trudging dejectedly back in the direction he came.  
  
He arrived at his bus stop just in time to hear a loud hiss, as the double doors shut and the bus drove off. Without him.  
  
And now he was walking home, apparently.  
  
Tears splintered his vision as he stared at the back of the bus, the grinning model on the perfume ad almost mocking his predicament.  
  
Thank God his apartment complex was only a mile away. He could manage a twenty minute walk. It was fine. Everything was fine.  
  
The tears currently brimming in his eyes told a different story.  
  
He walked the short distance to the nearby crossing, pressing the button and waiting for the light to turn green. Soon enough, green light invaded Logan's peripherals.  
  
Just as he set one foot on the road, a loud honk startled him. He jumped back just in time for a red blur to blow past, most definitely going over the speed limit.  
  
"Watch where you're walking, moron!" Came the driver's voice, barely audible over the wind. But Logan heard it. And it hurt.  
  
He wanted to yell back, wanted to scream at the driver that he was the one at fault, he was the one going far too quickly! But the car was now but a speck in his vision, so he settled for clenching his fists weakly, cursing the careless driver in his mind.  
  
He flicked his eyes left and right, making sure there were no more speeding idiots, before crossing cautiously.  
  
The sky gave a low, dangerous rumble as he walked, clouding over. Really, Logan shouldn't have been surprised, with the horrible gusts of wind, and the unnatural darkness.   
  
What a day to have forgotten his jacket.  
  
Rain poured down, soaking Logan and the few papers left hanging out of his messenger bag. He sighed, not even bothering to shield himself as he walked.  
  
Tears pricked his eyes for the third time that day, and Logan let them fall. No one would notice with the rain, anyway.  
  
His tears slowed as he reached his apartment complex. Pushing open the door, he stalked past the reception desk, heading straight for the elevator. The sooner he got into his apartment, the sooner he could break down in peace.  
  
His hair was drenched, dripping water down his back painfully slowly, and his glasses were so fogged up that Logan couldn't see a thing. He pulled them off, wiping them on his soaked pants. It didn't help much, but he could just about make out the numbers on the elevator buttons. He pressed number six, leaning against the wall as he ascended.  
  
Not long now. He'd be home in no time.  
  
The doors opened, and he walked down the silent hallway, heading straight to the end. He pulled out his key as his door came into view. Thankfully, he'd decided to keep it in his bag that day, rather than in his jacket pocket like usual.  
  
At least _one_ thing worked out in his favour.  
  
He stood in front of his door, barely sparing a glance at the one opposite. He was lucky to have a quiet neighbour this time around, nothing like the neighbours he had in college, who would drink and party constantly, almost like they were _trying_ to destroy Logan's sleep schedule.  
  
Rest assured, Logan was _not_ sad to have left that place.   
  
He inserted his key into the lock, taking a moment to remind himself which way to turn it. He twisted.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
He sighed. His lock had been an issue for a while now, randomly jamming, especially during colder months, when the temperature of the hallways was freezing. He tried again.  
  
Nothing.  
  
The stupid thing refused to budge! He tried again. And again. And again, wrenching the key as hard as he could.  
  
But it was all in vain, as his door stayed stubbornly locked. He let out a quiet sob, pressing his forehead against the painted wood. His determination to get through the day was wearing off now, being swiftly replaced with bone-deep exhaustion.  
  
All he wanted to do was get inside, take a hot shower, and go to sleep. Was that really so much to ask?  
  
Logan forced himself to calm, standing up. He gripped the key until his hand shook, took a deep breath, and twisted. Nothing.  
  
That was it.  
  
Logan screamed, all the frustration from his horrible day pouring out of him at once. He sunk to his knees, too tired, too _angry_ , to care about who saw his breakdown.  
  
He wanted to shower. He wanted to sleep. He wanted...  
  
He wanted....  
  
He didn't even know anymore!  
  
His head was getting fuzzier, coherent thought slipping from his grasp like dry sand. Logan was dropping, fast. 

And there was nothing he could do, but let it happen.  
  
-  
  
Virgil was about two seconds from throwing his laptop at the wall.  
  
Sometimes he really wondered why he decided to pursue writing as a career. He'd never been great at it in highschool. Well, as far as the teachers were concerned, anyway. He wasn't terrible, per se, just never quite met their standards.  
  
But, then again, those were the same people who worshipped authors for ending their sentences with periods.  
  
Questionable career choices aside, here he was, three months away from his deadline with two chapters to write. And, in the last three hours, he'd written a whopping eighty words.  
  
Brilliant. Just, brilliant.  
  
He needed to have this written and proofread by the end of May, and he wasn't even close to finishing the penultimate chapter.  
  
He typed a sentence, cringed, then stabbed the backspace button, deleting the monstrosity from his page.  
  
God, he really was getting nowhere with this.  
  
Groaning, he rubbed his dry eyes. Maybe he should listen to Janus about typing in the dark. He closed his page, shutting his laptop. Perhaps it was time for his eighth cup of coffee.  
  
He set his laptop down on the coffee table, heading towards the kitchen. He flicked the light on, momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness.  
  
As his eyes adjusted, he opened his mug cupboard - well, he called it a mug cupboard. He actually only had three mugs. Humming to himself, he switched his kettle on, before-  
  
Virgil startled, nearly dropping the mug in his hands as a spine-chilling scream echoed through the hallway.  
  
Who was _that_?  
  
Setting the mug hurriedly on the counter, Virgil ran to his door, wrenching it open to find his neighbour - Logan, if his memory served him correctly, having a breakdown in the hallway.  
  
_OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod_  
  
Virgil was not equipped to handle this situation in the slightest. He glared at all the other doors in the hallway that had stayed shut, even after such a distressed cry.  
  
Selfish morons.  
  
A man had just screamed bloody murder, and he was the only one who bothered to check if he was alright.  
  
Logan was pressed up against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. His key lying a little ways off. Virgil hesitated, then crouched beside the man.  
  
"Hey, uh, you ok?"  
  
You ok? Really, Virgil? Did he _look_ ok?  
  
Logan shook his head vehemently, sobbing harder. Virgil sucked air through his teeth, wracking his brain for some kind of social skills.  
  
What would Pat do?  
  
His brother was always amazing at this kind of stuff - comforting people, making jokes, just socialising in general. Virgil, however, was not.  
  
Logan's breath hitched and became more panicked. Virgil's eyes widened. He needed to do something, and he needed to do it now. He sat down, crosslegged, in front of Logan.  
  
"I'm gonna need you to breathe with me, please," he asked, tacking on the "please" last minute as if that would somehow help.  
  
Logan's eyes flew open, as if registering Virgil's precense properly for the first time. His breathing sped up.  
  
"Hey, hey," Virgil put his hands up in a placating gesture. "It's alright, it's fine. I'm just here to help. Can I come closer?"  
  
After receiving a tiny nod, Virgil tentatively shuffled closer.  
  
"Ok, deep breath in for me. I'm gonna count to four, and you have to keep breathing in, ok?"  
  
Virgil began counting, and Logan inhaled as instructed.  
  
"Ok, now- hold! Don't let go. I'm counting to seven this time, and you gotta keep it in."  
  
Virgil counted to seven, and Logan held his breath.  
  
"Ok, you're doing good. Final bit, I'll count to eight, and you have to breathe out slowly, and only finish when I get to eight, yeah?"  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Virgil counted for eight seconds, and Logan let go of his breath, finishing just as he reached the final numbers. Virgil gave a small smile.  
  
"Hey, that was good! You alright now?"  
  
There were still tears falling down Logan's face, and his shoulders shook with the occasional silent sob. Virgil pursed his lips, making a split second decision.  
  
"Can I touch you?"  
  
Another nod. Virgil picked up Logan's hand, then dropped it instantly, flinching at how freezing it was. That was when he realised Logan was dripping wet.  
  
"Geez, what happened to you?"  
  
Logan gave a low whine, and Virgil backed off.  
  
"Ok, ok, questions later. We have to get you inside first."  
  
Logan shook his head, pointing at his key. Virgil cocked his head in confusion.  
  
"I don't- I don't understand."  
  
"No' workin'" came a soft mumble.  
  
Virgil jumped at the sound of Logan's voice. The man was blinking at him tiredly, and there was something akin to innocence shining in his eyes.  
  
"Your... Your _key_ isn't working?" He clarified. Logan nodded, shivering.  
  
Virgil panicked. He had no idea how long Logan had been sitting out here, soaking wet, but it probably wasn't doing him much good. He stood, picking up the key.  
  
"I'll give it a go. If I can't do it, I'll let you shower at my place and we can go downstairs to the desk to let them know, yeah? We can't let this happen again."  
  
Virgil wasn't sure what possessed him to include himself in the situation. In reality, this was Logan's problem, and only Logan's. It wouldn't impact Virgil directly in any way, if he didn't get the issue sorted, but Virgil found himself wanting to make sure it did, for some unknown reason. But if Logan had any qualms about this random stranger inserting himself into his life, they weren't voiced.  
  
"'Kay." Was the only reply. 

Nodding resolutely to himself, Virgil picked up the key. There was no way he was leaving his neighbour out here in the cold, silent hallway, not if he had anything to say about it.  
  
Inserting the key in the lock, Virgil tried wiggling it carefully. The thing wouldn't budge.  
  
"This happen often?" He asked, conversationally. Logan hummed, and Virgil took that as an affirmative.  
  
"Should really get it checked out, then," he replied, twisting the key a little harder. This time, it turned minutely, and Virgil mentally cheered.  
  
It was slow progress. But progress was progress.  
  
He tried again, twisting the key back, then turning it harder. Very slowly, the lock began to unstick. Upon seeing Virgil's success, Logan sat up a little more.  
  
"'S workin'" he mumbled, words slurring. Virgil briefly wondered if he was drunk, before dismissing the thought entirely.  
  
He was soaked, exhausted, and prone to catching every disease on the planet. Of course he was a little out of it.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Virgil wrenched the key the last few millimetres, and pressed down the door handle. With a low creak, the door swung open.  
  
"Yeah!" Virgil cried, pumping his fist in the air. He turned to find Logan nodding off against the wall.  
  
Seeing his poor neighbour like that, so utterly drained, triggered something in Virgil. An instinct, an almost overwhelming need to just... _protect_.  
  
"Alright, c'mon, bud," Virgil grunted, as he took hold of Logan's arms, hoisting him upright. "Up you get."  
  
Logan whimpered, falling limply against Virgil's chest. Virgil paused, using his foot to nudge Logan's busted messenger bag through the threshold of the doorway. He could deal with that later.  
  
Virgil dragged his neighbour into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. He took a moment to survey the layout, relieved to find that it was similar to his own apartment.  
  
"Hey, Logan?" Virgil whispered. He genuinely felt horrible, bothering him, but he wasn't about to invade the guy's privacy, they barely knew each other. In fact, this in itself was already a major 'Strangers Code of Conduct' breach.   
  
The only other time they'd ever talked was when Logan said good morning, one Saturday while Virgil was collecting mail. He'd panicked, and slammed his door shut. They never spoke again, merely nodding at each other on the rare occasion that they crossed paths.  
  
"Mmmwha'?" Logan mumbled into his shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Logan," Virgil whispered. "You think you can go take a shower for me?"  
  
Logan whimpered, hands gripping the fabric of Virgil's hoodie. The man gave a sigh.  
  
"Guess that's a no, huh."  
  
Virgil really wasn't sure how he was going to do this without violating Logan's privacy in some way or another. He could feel his hoodie slowly becoming damp from the sheer amount of water Logan's clothes had absorbed.  
  
"How about, you go get changed? You think you could manage that?"  
  
Logan seemed to consider the question for a while, before giving a slow nod. Virgil loosened his grip, allowing Logan to stand himself, hands shooting out to steady him as he swayed. Just as he did, Logan's stomach gave a low growl.  
  
Virgil barked out a surprised laugh as Logan's face turned bright red.  
  
"You hungry?"  
  
Logan gave a shy nod, hiding his face away from Virgil, who found the action strangely endearing.  
  
"Ok, I'll make you something to eat, and you go and get changed. That sound like a plan?"  
  
Logan turned, walking in the direction Virgil assumed his bedroom was in. Meanwhile, Virgil busied himself with awkwardly looking through Logan's kitchen, heart breaking when he found barely any food, and several forgotten grocery lists taped to the fridge.  
  
Perhaps he should keep a close eye on Logan from now on.  
  
Eventually, he found some bread, and just enough shredded cheddar to make a grilled cheese sandwich.  
  
As he puttered about the kitchen, singing quietly to himself, Virgil wondered exactly what had happened to his neighbour for him to end up slumped next to his door, dripping wet with a broken bag.  
  
Logan was a very put together man, from what Virgil knew, always left for work eight o'clock sharp, no later, hair perfectly gelled, not even a speck of dust on his glasses-  
  
Wait a second. Since when did he pay so much attention to his neighbour?  
  
Virgil shook his head, focussing on the food in front of him.  
  
"Hand in my hand, and we promised to never let go," he sang as he waited for the butter to melt in the pan.  
  
"We're walking a tightrope,"  
  
He placed the first piece of bread into the pan, sprinkling cheese on top.  
  
"High in the sky, we can see the whole world down below..."  
  
Cheese began to ooze down the the sides of the bread, and Virgil took that as his sign to place the second slice of bread on top. He flipped over the sandwich, singing lowering in volume until it became near-silent humming.  
  
"You're good a' singin'"  
  
Virgil startled, turning around to see Logan standing behind him, dressed in blue sweats and a grey t-shirt that was definitely inside out.  
  
"I- uh, thank you," he replied, unsure of how to react to the sudden compliment. Logan nodded, shuffling over to his breakfast bar, slumping onto a stool.  
  
Virgil plated the sandwich, sliding it over to Logan, who stared at it as if he'd never seen one before. He sat in a stool beside Logan, propping his chin up on his hand.  
  
"So, if you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you end up screaming at your door, soaking wet, with a broken bag?"  
  
Logan said nothing, continuing to stare at the plate in front of him.  
  
"Y-you don't have to say anything, if you don't want to," Virgil backtracked hastily. "I totally get it, I mean, I'm just some random stranger who lives next door, of course it would be weird for you to tell me about your-" he cut himself off as he realised Logan still hadn't made any move to eat the grilled cheese.  
  
"Hey, is something wrong?"  
  
Logan hesitated, then pointed at the edges of the sandwich.  
  
"Don' like it." He mumbled, resting his head on his folded arms. 

"Don't like what, bud?" Virgil asked, surprising himself with the softness of his tone.  
  
He expected himself to be irritated at having gone through all this trouble, only to be told that the sandwich wasn't good enough but, coming from Logan, the statement didn't sound insulting at all.  
  
Logan pointed at the edge of the sandwich again.  
  
"You... don't like the crust?" Virgil guessed. Logan nodded, sniffing quietly.  
  
"'M sorry..."  
  
"Hey, hey," Virgil shuffled his chair closer, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about."  
  
"But 'm bein' an inco'vinience..."  
  
"You're not," Virgil said earnestly, absently taking note of the mispronounciation of 'inconvenience', as well as the childlike behaviour in general. He definitely had some Googling to do.  
  
He got up from the table and opened a drawer, where he'd spotted knives while looking for a spatula.  
  
"You just have a preference. I can't blame you for that."  
  
He cut the crust off the sandwich in no time at all, sliding the plate back to Logan, who looked far more pleased now.  
  
Slipping back onto the stool, Virgil waited patiently for Logan to finish the grilled cheese.  
  
Part of him knew that he should go, now that Logan seemed fine, and was no longer locked outside of his own apartment. But he just couldn't bring himself to leave, not until he'd made sure that Logan was safe, and asleep. 

"Bad day," Logan whispered suddenly, snapping Virgil out of his thoughts. 

"Hmm?"  
  
"Eve'yone a' work is a meanie."  
  
Virgil felt a sudden rush of white-hot anger at that. Who in the world could possibly be mean to such a sweet person?  
  
A low growl escaped his throat without warning. Logan flinched back, whimpering.  
  
"'M sorry, 'm sorry! Are you mad a' me too?"  
  
Virgil's heart shattered at the question, and all the anger drained from him in an instant.  
  
"No, no, I'm not, Logan. I'm just mad at the people being mean to you."  
  
"Oh... m'kay," Logan finished his sandwich, laying his head on Virgil's shoulder. Almost instinctively, Virgil's hand ran through his, still mildly damp, hair, gently teasing out any knots.  
  
"Tired?" He chuckled, when Logan yawned for the third time in two minutes.  
  
Logan's only response was a hum, as he gradually leaned more and more of his weight against Virgil.  
  
"Hey, you can't sleep here," Virgil whispered, shaking Logan awake as his eye slipped closed, earning himself an irritated whine.  
  
"I know, I know," Virgil almost cooed, standing up and tugging his neighbour to his feet. "But I don't think falling asleep at your table is gonna be much fun for your back."  
  
Just as Virgil had begun leading Logan away from the kitchen, he stopped abruptly, nearly sending himself and Virgil to the ground.  
  
"Gotta- gotta ge' milk," he mumbled, dragging Virgil towards the fridge. "Can' s'eep if I don't have milk."  
  
If that wasn't the most precious thing Virgil had ever heard, he wasn't sure what was.  
  
He gently nudged Logan out of the way, taking the milk carton from his hands. He found a cup - a plastic one, to avoid unwanted breakages - pouring the last of the milk into it. When he offered the cup to Logan, he pushed it away, pointing at the microwave.  
  
"You want it warm?" He asked Logan, who nodded, clinging onto his arm.  
  
"Ok," he extracted himself from his neighbour's octopus-like grip, instructing him to go sit back at the island. Instead, Logan merely pulled himself up onto the counter, swinging his legs as he waited for his milk.  
  
Virgil checked the cup to see if it was microwaveable - no explosions today, no sir - then placed it in the microwave, setting it to run for two minutes.  
  
"When was the last time you went grocery shopping, Logan?" He asked, throwing away the milk carton.  
  
Logan ducked his head in shame.  
  
"Can't 'member," he whispered.  
  
Virgil wasn't entirely sure what to do with that information. Had it really been so long that Logan had _forgotten_ the last time he'd been grocery shopping?  
  
Maybe he should go through with that plan of keeping an eye on him...  
  
"Well, you have to go at least once a week, alright?" He asserted gently. "Or you're gonna run out of food."  
  
The microwave beeped before Logan could respond, and Virgil pulled out the cup of milk, taking a moment to stir it to make sure there were no pockets of scalding milk, before handing it to Logan.  
  
"You gotta take care of yourself, bud," Virgil whispered, as Logan sipped the milk, eyes drooping closed. His grip on the cup loosened gradually, and Virgil caught it right before it was dropped completely. He rinsed it out, and set it on the side of the sink, then offered a hand to Logan.  
  
Logan hummed, taking it.  
  
"You gots to tell me dis stuff tomorrow. Won't 'member now."  
  
Virgil raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to make of that statement.  
  
"Ok, sleep time, now. Do you need me to come with you to your room, or are you gonna be ok by yourself?" 

"Come with, p'ease."  
  
Virgil was abruptly tugged towards Logan's bedroom. It was a simple room with little to no decor, grey walls, a double bed with stark white sheets, and a closet in the corner of the room.  
  
In other words, it was exactly what Virgil would've expected his room to look like, had he not seen this softer, more innocent side to his neighbour.  
  
Logan pulled him towards the bed, before slipping inside, bringing the covers up to his chin. Virgil hesitated, then sat at the edge of the bed, placing distance between himself and Logan so that he wouldn't be violating any boundaries.  
  
Well, any _more_ boundaries.  
  
Logan huffed, shuffling closer, picking up Virgil's hand and placing it in his hair. As soon as he understood what Logan wanted, Virgil gave an amused chuckle.  
  
"Alright, alright. Demanding, much?"  
  
Despite his teasing remark, Virgil combed his fingers through Logan's hair, resuming his detangling job from earlier.  
  
Logan's eyes slipped shut, and Virgil slowed his gentle ministrations, getting ready to leave, when they were suddenly wide open again.  
  
Virgil picked up the pace, and Logan's eyes drooped closed once more. Before being wrenched open.  
  
The same thing happened multiple times; Logan's eyes would shut, Virgil would assume he was asleep and get ready to leave, only for Logan to wrestle his eyes open again. 

"Ok, what're you doing?" Virgil asked, after Logan peeled his eyes open for the eleventh time. "You're sleepy, I can tell. Why're you trying to stay awake?"  
  
"Because..." Logan's voice was small as he answered. "Because you're gonna leave when I go to sleep. Don' wan' you to go..."  
  
The words were filled with so much loneliness and longing, that Virgil felt tears sting his own eyes.  
  
"Oh, baby..." the nickname slipped past Virgil's lips without permission. "I just live across the hall, Logan. You can come visit any time you like. I'm not going anywhere far away."  
  
Logan's eyes shone with tears, and his lip trembled. 

"You promise?"  
  
"I promise." 

Logan seemed satisfied with his promise, as his eyes slipped shut, and didn't re-open, this time. Soon, the sound of even breathing filled the air, almost lulling Virgil himself to sleep. 

He stood, glancing back at Logan's peaceful face one last time, before slipping out of the room quietly.  
  
He picked up the abandoned plate from the kitchen island, rinsing it, and placing it beside the cup by the sink. He plucked a grocery list off Logan's fridge, huffing an exasperated laugh at seeing it was dated for over a year ago, and found a pen sitting on the kitchen counter. He wrote his full name, apartment number, and phone number on the back of it.  
  
After placing it where he was sure Logan would see, Virgil shut off all the lights, before leaving the apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him. Sighing, he entered his own apartment, making a beeline for the kitchen.  
  
Now, time for that eighth cup of coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, ngl, now that I've written this, I sort of want Virgil to fight Linda. 
> 
> (Also, sorry if your name is Linda, I'm sure you're a wonderful person) 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3 
> 
> Take care!!


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